The Other Side of the Bars
by Vol lady
Summary: Jarrod gets a taste of what his clients go through when he is arrested for murdering four people in a stage coach robbery. While he languishes in jail, his mother and his lawyer work to get him out, while his brothers search for the real killers.
1. Chapter 1

Jarrod gets a taste of what his clients, and people he's prosecuted, go through when he's arrested for killing four people during a stage coach robbery. Meanwhile his mother and his lawyer work to build his defense, while his brother race to find the real robbers and save Big Brother from the rope.

The Other Side of the Bars

Chapter 1

Jarrod woke up in a strange hotel room, again. He rolled out of bed with a groan and washed his face in the basin on the dresser. He took a look at himself in the mirror as he dried off. Unshaven, but he'd take care of that in a few minutes. Red-eyed – well, there was no taking care of that, not yet anyway.

He wandered down the hall to the necessary, thinking about how long he had been on the road on these business errands. When he put this whole agenda together, trying to knock off as many negotiations and contracts in one long trip as he could, he thought it had been a good idea. After too many long nights and too much talking and drinking to ease the deals into being, he was tired. He was beyond tired, even beyond exhausted. Even beyond hung over.

Back in his room, he shaved at the basin and finished dressing. He liked what he saw in the mirror better, but he still didn't care for the bloodshot eyes. He went down to the hotel lobby, seeking breakfast, and sat down in the restaurant where he'd had breakfast each morning for the last three. The usual waitress looked at him and smiled a little.

"Late night last night?" she asked.

"Too late," Jarrod said, too bleary-eyed to even look at her. "Eggs and ham and biscuits, please. And lots of coffee."

She had already brought the pot and filled his cup. "You got it," she said and went back to the kitchen.

Jarrod rubbed his eyes, trying to put his day in order. Finalizing the deal with the army here in Modesto should only take today, so tomorrow he could move on south toward the town of Camp Meade where he'd meet with David Castle, partner with the Barkleys in a gold mine. He'd negotiate an exit from that deal for the family. Shouldn't be difficult – Castle did not seem unhappy that he'd have the mine all to himself. Things ought to go smoothly and quickly.

But then Jarrod would have to move up to the northeast, to negotiate the merger of a Barkley mine with another mine owned by the Lowell family. Then further north to finalize a sale of Barkley land to the Markell family.

And somewhere in there he would have to have his laundry done at least once, and get a haircut. This morning, before finishing with the army, he'd have to wire his family about his progress and where he'd be going next. And he'd have to make arrangements to take the stage to Camp Meade tomorrow. And there was still that case that didn't involve the family, still open in San Francisco, that he was still negotiating a settlement on via telegraph while he was taking care of all this family business.

He moaned out loud just thinking about it all.

He didn't realize the waitress was there with his biscuits. She smiled. "That rough this morning?"

Jarrod shook his head and reached for his cup of coffee. "Just thinking about everything I have to do in the next couple weeks. I'll be leaving you tomorrow."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," the waitress said. "It's been nice having you."

Jarrod smiled a little as he took a sip of coffee. "It's been nice being here, but duty calls."

"You take good care of yourself," she said, "because frankly, you look like you could use some taking care of."

Jarrod chuckled. "I haven't been doing a very good job of it, have I?"

The waitress smiled. "Let's just say that maybe you should stick to coffee today and forget the nightcaps."

Jarrod nodded in agreement as the waitress went back to the kitchen. He checked his watch and saw he'd have time to take care of the telegrams and getting the stage ticket before his scheduled meeting with the army. With any luck, he could finish with the army before lunch and have the rest of the day to take it easy. A long, quiet nap in the afternoon sounded great.

He finished breakfast quickly and headed for the stage depot to get a ticket for tomorrow's stage. Only one stage a week went to Camp Meade, so he was pretty pleased to get the ticket, which he put in the inside pocket of his suit jacket for safekeeping. Then he headed for the telegraph office.

It took a little while to compose what he wanted to say to his family, but he finally settled on: _Will finish successfully here today STOP Camp Meade tomorrow STOP Will wire again with instructions on delivery._

Short and sweet. The family back home would be well satisfied and he could move on.

By the time he finished with those errands, he was due to meet the army representative back at the hotel restaurant. He ran up to his room to get the papers and arrived only a minute or so before the captain he'd be negotiating with came in.

"Captain Wells," Jarrod said, offering his hand.

The young captain shook hands with him and sat down. "Everything ready to sign?"

Jarrod fished the contract for the sale of horses out of his briefcase. "Just needs you to read over it one more time."

The captain took the papers and began to read, saying, "You're sure you can make delivery in two weeks?"

"Things are all ready to go in Stockton," Jarrod said. "They're just waiting for the word, and they probably will be able to deliver early and accept that bonus."

"It would be very helpful if delivery was early," the captain said, and then he was quiet as he read through the contract.

Jarrod shut his eyes while he waited. They were beginning to burn.

Captain Wells finally said, "Looks good."

Jarrod took out the pen and ink he had in a traveling set in his briefcase and handed the pen to Captain Wells. He put ink in the pen and signed the contract. Jarrod accepted the pen back and signed for the Barkley family, two copies – one for the army and one for the Barkleys – and everything was done.

Captain Wells stood up and offered his hand. Jarrod shook it and then gave the captain his copy of the contract, saying, "It's been a pleasure to do business with the army, as usual."

Captain Wells said, "Our pleasure as well."

Then they were finished, and the captain left. Jarrod put the pen, ink and his copy of the contract back into his briefcase, then headed for the telegraph office.

He was pretty much half asleep already when he got there and wired home, _Deal done STOP Deliver Modesto two weeks STOP Will wire again when done in Camp Meade._

That being done, Jarrod headed back to his room, took off his jacket and boots, loosened his tie and vest and fell onto the bed. Sleep was all he wanted for the rest of the day.

XXXXXXX

The next morning, well rested after his afternoon nap, dinner without alcohol and a good night's sleep, Jarrod threw his suitcase up to the stagecoach driver and climbed inside. Two other people were there already, both women, one who looked to be in her mid-twenties and the other who could have been her mother. Jarrod smiled and tipped his hat. "Ladies," he said cheerfully as he sat down across from them. He hadn't felt this cheerful in days.

The women both nodded to him.

"My name is Jarrod Barkley," Jarrod said. "I guess we'll be sharing the trip for a spell."

As soon as he said his name, the younger woman perked up. "Jarrod Barkley – the lawyer from San Francisco?"

"The same," Jarrod admitted.

The older woman smiled then, too. "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Barkley."

"A good one, I hope," Jarrod said.

"Lawyers don't have the best reputations, but you seem to have a good one," the older woman said. "I'm Harriet Helms. This is my daughter, Belinda."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Jarrod said.

The stage suddenly lurched into motion. The ladies held onto their hats but let go as soon as the stage pulled out.

"Are you going all the way to Camp Meade?" Jarrod asked.

"Only to Clayton," Mrs. Helms said.

"Well, it won't be difficult a trip for you then," Jarrod said. "We should be there by midafternoon."

After a couple more minutes of idle chatter, the Helms women settled into staring out of the windows in silence. Jarrod tilted his hat forward and his head back, closing his eyes. Still a bit sleep deprived, he found himself allowing the rocking of the stage to make him drift off.

That was the last he knew until he woke up face down in the road in the midday sun.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It took him several minutes to realize he was lying in the road in the dirt. He moved slowly. His head hurt like crazy. He reached a hand to the left side of his head and found blood in his hair. _What the - ?_ he thought.

Then he was awake and alarmed. He managed to sit up, and he looked around. What he saw jolted him wide awake.

The stage stood upright in the road, stopped dead, the horses still hitched but pulling over to the side of the road to get to some grass to graze on. The next thing Jarrod saw sent him scrambling to get up. The two Helms women lay still in the road, about ten feet away. Jarrod half stumbled, half crawled to them – and what he saw sent him reeling again. The women were both dead, shot in the head.

Jarrod looked around and saw the driver and shotgun also lying in the road, several feet away. He crawled to them, and found the same thing – two dead men, shot in the head. Nearby, a strong box sat open. Jarrod got to it and saw it was empty. All the suitcases and his briefcase were lying around open and empty. Some paper and articles of clothing were being scattered by the wind. This was a robbery.

But why was he still alive? How had he lost consciousness and not been shot? And why couldn't he remember how he got that way?

Jarrod reached for the gun in his holster, but it was gone. Thinking it might have fallen out, he looked all around, then got to his feet and looked further – under the stage, in the stage, into the grass at the edge of the road. He didn't find it anywhere.

His head was really beginning to hurt, and he wondered if he fact he had been shot but just wasn't killed. Realizing he couldn't do anything for anyone here, and that he had to find some sheriff as soon as he could – not to mention get medical attention for himself – he unhitched the stage coach horses. In a few minutes, he pulled himself onto the back of one of them.

And then wondered where he was. Was he closer to Modesto or to the next town? Where did the women say they were going? Clayton? Jarrod knew that was the next town down the line from Modesto, and it was only about twenty miles or so from there. He took the risk that he was closer to Clayton than to Modesto, and he took off at a gallop straight ahead in the direction the stage had been traveling.

His aching head nearly sent him off the horse's back, but he hadn't gone even a mile before he ran into three men on horseback coming the other way. He caught the reflection of sunlight coming off one of the men. A badge. Jarrod pulled to a stop as the three men did, too.

"There's been a robbery," Jarrod said. "Stage coach, about a mile behind me."

"You were on the stage?" the man wearing the badge asked.

"Yes," Jarrod said. "There are four dead people back there, shot in the head." He began to sag.

The sheriff barked orders to his men. "Clyde, get this man into town to the doctor and then come back out here. Jack, you come with me."

The two men rode on to where the stage was, while Clyde got Jarrod into the town he'd come from. It was Clayton, Jarrod saw as soon as they rode into town. Clyde helped him down off the horse, saying, "When the stage didn't come in, we waited two hours, wired Modesto and found out it left on time. So we came looking for you."

Jarrod's legs were weak, but Clyde supported him as they went into the doctor's office. "Glad you did."

"Do you know what happened?" Clyde asked.

"I fell asleep on the stage, and then I woke up in the road. What happened in between, I have no idea. I just found the driver and shotgun and the two women dead, and the strong box empty."

A young man in the doctor's office took hold of Jarrod and helped Clyde get him into the examination room. "Stage coach robbed, Dr. Miller," Clyde said to the young man. "This fella was in it. Four others are dead."

They got Jarrod up onto the table. "Let's have a look at this," Dr. Miller said.

"I gotta get back," Clyde said and left.

"I might have been shot," Jarrod said to the doctor. "I can't tell."

Dr. Miller took a quick look. "Doesn't look like a bullet wound. Did the coach overturn?"

"No."

"Well, you've got a bloody knot above the ear. You got hit good somehow."

"I don't know how, but that would explain why I didn't hear the gunshots that killed the others. Ow!" Jarrod blurted when the doctor took some alcohol to his head wound.

"No, this isn't a bullet wound," Dr. Miller said, "but you might have a concussion. Are you sick to your stomach or dizzy?"

"I was dizzy at first, but not now. Never sick."

"You're probably all right then."

"Except for not knowing what happened out there."

"I'm keeping you here for the time being, at least until the sheriff gets back. Just to be sure, I don't want you falling asleep."

"All right," Jarrod said. Then suddenly he thought about having to be in Camp Meade. It was clear he wasn't going to be getting there anytime soon. "Can I get a wire off to my family?"

"I'll get somebody to send it. What do you want to say?"

"Just say I've been hurt in a stagecoach robbery and I need Nick to go to Camp Meade. Sign it 'Jarrod.'"

Dr. Miller nodded. "Stay put here. I'll be back in a minute."

Jarrod sighed as the doctor went out. He was pretty sure he did not have a concussion, but was grateful the doctor was being careful with him. He hoped his family wouldn't be too alarmed by his wire, but he figured if he was signing his name to it, they would know he wasn't badly hurt.

Then he just wondered what had happened to him and to those women and men out there on the road. Clearly, from the head wounds they'd all received, they'd all been executed, but why was he still alive? His head injury wasn't a gunshot wound. Why wasn't it? Why had he been unconscious? Why hadn't the shot that killed those people awakened him?

Nothing was making any sense at all.

XXXXXX

The doctor returned, but he still wasn't ready to let Jarrod go. Jarrod wasn't sure why, but the doctor wouldn't even let him go to the hotel and get a room. About an hour after Clyde left the doctor's office, the sheriff came in. By that time Jarrod was sitting up in a chair in the examination room. The sheriff came right in.

"How is this fella?" the sheriff asked the doctor.

"Got a knock on the head, but it's not a bullet wound," Dr. Miller said. "I don't think there's a concussion."

The sheriff looked at Jarrod. "What's your name?"

"Jarrod Barkley. I'm from Stockton."

"Got any identification?"

Jarrod reached for his inside jacket pocket for his wallet, but it wasn't there. Instead, he found something else and pulled it out. A wad of money. Where had that come from?

The sheriff took it from him. "Where'd you get this money, Barkley?"

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "My wallet's gone, and I don't know how this got in its place."

The sheriff heaved a sigh. "Where's your gun?"

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "It was gone when I woke up."

The sheriff slapped the money in his palm over and over nervously, thinking. "Where were you going on that horse when we found you?"

"Here," Jarrod said. "For help."

The sheriff sighed again. "Barkley, I gotta tell you, I can't figure why four people are dead from bullets in the head and you weren't even shot."

"That makes two of us, Sheriff."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry, but until we figure this all out, I gotta believe that you weren't murdered out there because you were never on that stage."

Jarrod felt like he'd been hit in the head again. "What?"

"Tell me why I should believe you were a passenger and not one of the robbers."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

" _Tell me why I should believe you were a passenger and not one of the robbers."_

Jarrod couldn't believe the sheriff was saying what he said. For a moment he didn't know how to respond. Then, he decided and said, "Look, contact the sheriff in Stockton. He'll vouch for me. And check with the stage depot in Modesto. They'll tell you I bought a ticket for the stage."

"I'm sure they'll both tell me about Jarrod Barkley," the sheriff said, "but how am I to know you're him?"

"Sheriff, if you'll contact the sheriff in Stockton, he can clear this up."

"I'll do that, but this is all gonna take time, and I'm not interested in giving you the chance to ride out of here. Doc, is he well enough to sit in my jail for a few days?"

Jarrod nearly objected, but Dr. Miller said, "I think so," before he could even stand up.

"All right," the sheriff said. "While I investigate all this, you're under arrest for suspicion of robbery and murder, Barkley, or whoever you are. Let's go."

The sheriff took him by the arm, and Jarrod stood up with an exasperated sigh. This wasn't right. But he cooperated, walking along out of the office and across the street to the town jail. In less than two minutes, he was locked up tight and sitting on the bunk in a cell, wondering what was happening.

XXXXXXX

Victoria Barkley answered the knock on the door and found Sheriff Madden standing there. "Fred! What brings you out here?"

The sheriff held his hat in his hands. "Problems, Victoria. May I come in?"

"Of course," Victoria said and stood aside while he entered.

Once they got into the foyer, Sheriff Madden said, "I got a wire from the Sheriff in Clayton, and Jack at the telegraph office gave me a wire he got to you. Jarrod sent the one to you, saying he'd been hurt in a stage coach robbery and asking that Nick go to Camp Meade."

Victoria frowned. "Jarrod's hurt? Did he say anything more? Do you have the wire?"

The sheriff gave Victoria the telegram from Jarrod. She read it while the sheriff said, "The wire I got from the sheriff sheds a little more light on things. Seems the sheriff is trying to get some identification information about Jarrod. He's got Jarrod in his jail over that robbery. People were killed, too. If I read between the lines, I get that the Clayton sheriff thinks Jarrod is one of the robbers, and Jarrod can't give him enough information to make him think otherwise."

Victoria was frightened now. "May I read yours?"

The sheriff gave it to her, and she read it carefully, frowning. Usually it was Nick or Heath in jail and Jarrod coming to the rescue, but now everything was twisted around. _Lawyer_ , she thought. _Jarrod needs a lawyer._

"Fred, can you wait while I change clothes and go back to town with you? I want to see if I can get Mark Bromley to go to Clayton, and I'll go with him." Mark Bromley was a former Assistant District Attorney who had resigned under ugly circumstances but since had built a reputable private practice. Victoria could never forget that Mark had nearly cut a deal with Joshua Cunningham, a man who had blown up Jarrod's office, blinding him, but Jarrod had recovered and on more than on occasion, told his family he trusted Mark. Desperate for help now, Victoria was willing to trust Mark as well as any other attorney in town.

"I think you'd better talk to your sons first," Sheriff Madden said. "Why don't I talk to Mark and wire the Clayton sheriff that he's coming? If he can't go, I'll find someone who can."

"All right, all right," Victoria said, and headed for the door. "You do that, and I'll send for Nick and Heath."

Victoria went outside with the sheriff, to tell Ciego to fetch Nick and Heath. Now that there was a plan, she was feeling a bit better, but she'd feel much better if they could get Jarrod some help fast. So, she was planning on moving fast.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod kept thinking, trying to remember what had happened out there on the road, but he could not remember how he ended up unconscious but not shot dead. Nor could he remember what happened to his identification and his gun, or how the wad of money got into his pocket. Maybe it was the knock on the head that took most of that memory away. Maybe most of it happened while he was unconscious.

But the big question was still making his head spin. Why wasn't he dead? If they killed everyone else, why didn't they kill him?

He didn't know how much time had passed before the sheriff came back in. He was moving slowly, carrying a gun but not pointing it. Jarrod got up off the bunk and came to the cell door.

The sheriff held the gun in the palm of his hand, showing it to Jarrod. "This yours?"

Jarrod could have reached out and taken it, but he decided that was not a good idea. He looked closely at it. "Looks like mine, but a lot of men carry that bone-handled Colt."

The sheriff handed it to him through the bars, startling Jarrod, but he took it. "Handle it. Is it yours?"

Jarrod figured it had to be unloaded. He felt the weight of it, the balance, how it fit in his hand. He remembered it had been a gift from Nick, long ago. He handed it back. "Yes, this is mine. Where did you find it?"

The sheriff took it. "In the brush near the road. It was empty, and it's been fired several times. Did you fire it?"

Jarrod shook his head. "Not in quite a while."

"So, your story is that somebody took it off you and killed those four people with it."

Jarrod was about to jump out of his skin. The sheriff was out and out accusing him of murder. "It's not a story. If it's been fired, that's what happened, or the robbers just fired it to make it look like I did the shooting."

"But you don't remember anything about it. You don't remember firing it. You don't remember using it to kill those four people."

"I _didn't_ use it to kill those four people!"

"You don't remember what happened though, do you? You remember falling asleep on the stage and then waking up in the road. You don't know how you got hit on the head or where your identification went to or how you got that money in your pocket, is that your story?"

Jarrod sighed. "It's not a story! It's the truth!"

"So you could have killed those people, couldn't you?"

"No!" Jarrod was adamant now. "I did not kill anyone, much less two women! I wasn't one of the men who robbed that stage!"

The sheriff sighed and backed away. "I'm still waiting to hear from the Stockton sheriff and the Modesto stage office. Maybe they'll help clear you, maybe not. I got a posse out tracking the other men who robbed that stage. In the meantime, you're staying right here, so get comfortable."

"Sheriff - " Jarrod tried again. "You don't have a case against me! 'Could have', 'you don't remember' - that's not evidence to hold me on!"

The sheriff walked out, leaving Jarrod holding the cell door bars and ready to explode. It was true, he couldn't remember what happened and maybe never would. And frankly, he'd had clients held in jail on less evidence than this sheriff had him on. Jarrod knew he was not involved, but he was scared. Somebody who was involved in the robbery was setting him up, maybe just to take some of the heat off of the real robbers and give them some time to get away. That notion was what made sense.

But only to people who knew him. If he was a stranger, as he was to the sheriff, pieces of credible evidence were stacking up against him. He found himself praying Sheriff Madden and his family would find a way to get him out of this. In the meantime, he went back to the bunk and sat down.

At least until he heard the yelling out in the office. A voice that wasn't the sheriff's. "Is he the killer?! Did he kill my aunt and my cousin?! Is he the one?!"

XXXXXXX

Nick and Heath hurried into the house, Nick yelling, "Mother?"

This time Victoria did not mind the yell. She came down from upstairs, now dressed in riding clothes and carrying a valise.

"What's going on?" Heath asked. "Ciego sounded worried."

"We got telegrams from Jarrod and from the sheriff in Clayton," Victoria said. "Jarrod was injured in a stagecoach robbery and the sheriff is holding him in the belief that Jarrod was one of the robbers."

"What?!" Nick yelled.

"Fred Madden brought them by. He's going to see if Mark Bromley can go to Clayton to defend Jarrod, but we have to be ready to go, too. We can't just stay here."

"Mother, maybe you best settle down before you go riding off to Clayton," Heath said.

"I'm not staying here while my son is face a charge of murdering someone."

"Murder?" Nick blurted out.

"That's what the wire said he was being held for, robbery and murder," Victoria said. "I think you'd better go pack. If Mark is willing to go to Clayton, we need to go with him."

"Mother, are you sure you should?" Heath asked. "Audra is due back from Chicago in a week – "

"I'm going," Victoria cut him off. "I'm not letting my son face a robbery and murder charge while I sit up here and twiddle my thumbs."

Nick and Heath looked at each other and knew there was no point in arguing with Victoria. "We better go pack," Heath said, and Nick nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jarrod heard the cellblock door open, and the sheriff came in. His head was down until he got to the door of Jarrod's cell. Jarrod had been lying on the cot, but he sat up, trying to read the sheriff's expression. He couldn't read it.

"What was that yelling I heard out there?"

The sheriff sighed. "The two women on the stage were coming here. That was our local banker. The women were his aunt and his cousin, and he's mighty upset."

Jarrod felt his skin crawl. "What did you tell him?"

"That I had a suspect but that we were still investigating this. That you might not be the killer at all, you might just be another stage passenger. That seemed to settle him down for now."

Jarrod stood up, very nervous. "Sheriff, I'm a lawyer. I've seen a lot of men in jail for murder who get threatened by the survivors of the deceased."

"Fancy words there, Mr. Barkley," the sheriff said, "but don't you worry. We'll keep you nice and safe right here."

Jarrod's stomach was tightening. He never felt so trapped in his life, behind the bars on some flimsy charges while someone out there was raising Cain. He had seen lynch mobs. He knew what could be happening out in the street, despite the fact that the evidence against him was so weak. How many times had Jarrod seen men arrested on nothing evidence simply because they were the most handy?

The sheriff said, "The posse is back."

 _More wonderful news_ , Jarrod thought. "Let me guess. They didn't find the robbers."

The sheriff shook his head. "Lost the tracks heading up into the mountains. Got some good news for you, though. Your family and your lawyer are on their way from Stockton. They'll be here tomorrow."

"Are you going to accept their say-so if they identify me?" Jarrod asked.

"Don't know yet."

"And you don't know yet if you'll drop the charges even if they do identify me."

The sheriff nodded. "Just because you're some fancy lawyer from Stockton, it don't mean you're not the man I'm after."

Jarrod shook his head. "Sheriff, I am not the man you're after. You're gonna figure that out in the next couple days."

"Maybe so, but meantime you'll be my guest. Supper will be coming in an hour or so. You can visit the necessary after that."

 _How wonderful_ , Jarrod thought, and he lay back down on the cot.

XXXXXX

Jarrod decided that being in jail was his most incredibly boring experience since going into winter quarters in the army during the war. Maybe if he had something to read things might have been more tolerable. Even in the army there was always a game of cards or checkers or some other diversion to keep you occupied. This sheriff wasn't the game playing kind, though. Jarrod spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling and counting the cracks in the plaster on the walls.

Late in the afternoon the next day, he heard the cellblock door open, and he looked and saw his brothers come in – both of them. "You're supposed to be in Camp Meade," he said to Nick and sat up.

"Hello to you too," Nick said, then looked over his shoulder to see the cellblock door close behind them. "I wired David Castle we'd be delayed."

"How did you get here so fast?"

"Took the train to Modesto, rented horses there."

"How you doing, Jarrod?" Heath asked.

Jarrod got up. "I'm bored." He decided not to add that he was scared.

"We brought you a lawyer. Mark Bromley's with Mother, getting us all checked in at the hotel."

"Good, because it's beginning to look like I'm going to need a lawyer. The posse lost track of the robbers and I'm still the one on the hook."

"What happened? Do you remember?" Nick asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "I fell asleep on the stage and when I woke up, I was face down in the road with a knot on my head, and everybody else on the stage was dead. The strongbox was shot open and empty. Everybody's belongings had been ransacked. My identification was gone and in its place in my pocket was a wad of bills from the strongbox."

"Somebody set you up."

"You might say that."

"You don't know how you ended up in the road?" Heath asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "Something must have happened that I don't remember. Maybe it happened fast. I've been thinking about it, and it could be somebody hit me before I really woke up from my nap. I had to be unconscious when they shot the other people on the stage or I'd have heard the shots."

"But it looks like all the sheriff has on you is the money and the fact you aren't dead," Nick said. "That's not much."

"And the fact that my gun had been fired. But that might be enough," Jarrod said. "The way I figure it, we need to get our hands on at least one of the real robbers to clear me for sure."

"We'll get to the bottom of it, Jarrod," Heath said. "Just because the posse lost track of the robbers doesn't mean Nick and I can't pick them up again."

"The sheriff's deputy headed up the posse. He should be able to tell you where they lost them. But you're going to have to work quick. They believe in speedy trial around here. Do you think it was wise bringing Mother along?"

"She wasn't about to stay home," Heath said.

"Look, you gotta promise me something."

Nick and Heath heard the more serious turn to his voice. "What?" Nick asked.

"If this goes bad for me," Jarrod said, "you get Mother out of here before they hang me."

"Jarrod, nobody's gonna hang you," Nick said. "They don't have enough on you - "

"I sure don't plan on it," Jarrod cut him off, "but if things go bad, you have to promise me that you'll get her out of here so she doesn't see me hang. I mean that."

His brothers took him seriously. They both nodded. "Whatever you want, Jarrod," Heath said.

Jarrod nodded. "Now, go find those robbers for me, will you? Mark and I can work on my defense from this end."

They hesitated.

"Go," Jarrod said.

Nick and Heath nodded, and Nick banged on the cellblock door. They watched Jarrod lie down on the bunk again as they left. They got the location of the robbery and where the posse lost track of the robbers from the deputy. Then they went right over to the hotel, found Mark and their Mother to tell them they'd be leaving right away to pick up the trail. They were riding out of town within fifteen minutes.

XXXXXXX

It was hard to find identifiable tracks in the road where the stagecoach was robbed, but they managed to find ones that went up the spur road to the place where the deputy said the posse lost the robbers' trail. The deputy had told them that one of the robbers' horses kicked out with a rear leg, so Nick and Heath knew what they were looking for. The weather had been dry, and there was not much traffic on that spur road. They were able to follow for several miles.

But then, of course, the road went to rock, and the tracks disappeared.

"Any idea where this road goes?" Nick asked.

"No," Heath said. "But we can follow it for a spell, see if we can spot these tracks again on a softer side road or something."

"You know," Nick said, "I keep wondering why robbers would kill everyone but leave Jarrod alive, and why leave money on him but take his identification."

"Only one reason I can think of," Heath said. "Confuse the law long enough to let the real robbers get away, maybe even let Jarrod take the fall and keep the law off them permanently."

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking. But this can't be the first time they'd have tried something like this."

"No, maybe not. I imagine Jarrod and Mark are thinking that, too. But our job is to pick up this trail again, so we better get at it."

With that, Nick and Heath kept following the road up into the mountain.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Hello, Jarrod," Mark Bromley said with a smile as he came toward Jarrod's cell.

Jarrod got up off the cot and saw that his mother had preceded Mark into the cellblock. She was already at his cell door. Jarrod smiled and gave her a kiss between the bars. "Hello, Mark," he said. "Thanks for coming."

"How are you doing?" Victoria asked as the sheriff closed the cellblock door and gave them privacy.

"Bored," Jarrod said. "I never realized how dull being in jail could be."

"I wish I could get some bail set, but that's not likely," Mark said. "Since you don't live here, you'd be seen as too much a flight risk."

Jarrod nodded.

"Nick and Heath have already gone to try to track down the robbers," Victoria said.

Jarrod nodded again. "I take it you at least have been able to convince the sheriff I am who I say I am."

Mark nodded. "Some newspaper articles and photographs convinced him, but it still won't get you out of here. The sheriff has one body he can try to hang this hold-up on and he's not gonna give it up. Let's talk about what happened, Jarrod."

Jarrod explained what happened – at least what he was able to remember of it – just as he had explained it to his brothers.

"Is your memory of what happened returning any?" Mark asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "Not a bit. The more I think about it, the more I'm certain I was hit in the head before I woke up from the nap I took in the coach. Otherwise, I'd surely remember somebody hitting me, at least, and I don't."

"You don't remember what any of the robbers look like?"

"I don't remember ever seeing them, Mark."

"What do you remember about the other passengers?"

The other passengers. The relative of the two women had been quiet, but Jarrod suddenly felt his stomach twist again, thinking that the man might be out there, whipping up a mob. Jarrod put the notion away and concentrated on what he had to do with Mark Bromley. "Two women, mother and daughter. We spoke a little. I don't remember what they looked like."

"Why do you think Jarrod was left alive?" Victoria asked Mark.

"To take the fall, I'd guess," Mark said. "To take the heat off the real robbers."

Jarrod nodded. "Mark, can you check somehow and see if any other robberies like this have been reported?"

"I have some contacts I'll telegraph. Newspaper editors may be the best sources of information. They tend to pick up stories like this even if they aren't local. And then there's the Attorney General. I'll check with him, too. But you know, we don't have a lot of time. Our best bet is for Nick and Heath to find at least one of the real robbers."

Jarrod sighed. "Even if they do, it's going to take some good evidence to get me off the hook - a lot better evidence than put me on the hook."

Victoria stood taking this all in, and looking more concerned as the conversation went on. Jarrod noticed. He smiled and kissed her again through the bars.

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll figure this out."

Victoria gave a small smile back. "What can I do for you in the meantime?"

Jarrod sighed. "See if the sheriff will let you bring me a good book."

"Consider it done," she said.

"I'll get to work on looking for other robberies like this," Mark said. "You keep your spirits up."

Jarrod nodded, and he watched as Mark knocked on the cellblock door and the sheriff came and let them out. He was surprised when the sheriff came back in after Mark and Victoria had left. The sheriff stood looking at him for a moment. Jarrod kept quiet, wondering what he wanted.

"Just between you and me," the sheriff said slowly, "I find it hard to believe you'd be the kind of man to be in on a stage robbery. Sure don't look like you need the money, and you got family around you."

"Then drop the charges," Jarrod said. "You can see I'm not your man. I bought a ticket, for the love of God!"

The sheriff eyed him. "The people around here have trusted me to keep them safe. They won't look kindly on me letting a man go just because he don't look like the kind of man to rob a stage, or just because he had a ticket on it, if I got any reason at all to keep him, and with that money in your pocket and your gun being empty and you NOT being dead, I got reason. And frankly, if I was to let you out of here right now - well, our banker has friends. He ain't a bad man, but he carries weight around here and he likes to throw it around. He could make trouble for you. So far he's not getting any takers on hauling you out of here and hanging you, and I don't want to see him get any. It's safer for everybody if you sit right here for a while."

The sheriff turned and left, closing the cell block door behind him. Jarrod did't think much of the sheriff's notion that he was protecting him by keeping him in jail. He liked the idea of being set free and getting out of town a lot better, but with this sheriff's thinking - "if I got any reason at all to keep him" - that wasn't going to happen. He sighed and lay back down on the cot, staring at the ceiling.

XXXXXXXX

Nick and Heath kept on the road that had turned to rock, but whenever they came to a side road, they took it instead, looking for the tracks of the robbers they had followed up here. They took each side road for a mile or more, determined their men hadn't gone that way, and gone back again several times. Finally, as the light was growing dim, they found a side road where the tracks they were following went.

They sat for a moment and looked out across the valley. They realized the same thing at the same time. Heath said, "These tracks are heading for Modesto."

"Unless they turn off again before they get there," Nick said.

"We can't track very well in the dark so we might as well camp for the night."

Nick grunted and nodded, and they found a place to set up camp. They ate and drank coffee in virtual silence, but both of them had been thinking a lot. Heath finally broke the silence when he said, "We're gonna have to have another plan if we can't find these guys."

"I know," Nick agreed, "but I don't know what plan to have."

"You know, when we get to Modesto, we need to talk to the sheriff and see if there were any other robberies like this one. Even if we lose these tracks."

Nick nodded again. "Big Brother has gotten himself into a stew this time."

Heath heard the doubt and the worry in Nick's voice. "Yeah," he agreed, "but we're not out of hope yet."

Nick was silent for a long time but finally said, "Heath, if they hang him for this – "

"He's not gonna hang," Heath cut him off. "Don't even go thinking like that. They just don't have the case. Between you and me and him and Mark Bromley, we're gonna get him free."

Nick smiled. "Thanks. I needed the encouragement."

"You need the sleep, too. You're starting to get bags under your eyes."

That was the signal to turn in. As they climbed under their blankets, they each had the same hope flitter by – they hoped it would not rain tonight.

But it rained.

XXXXXXXX

In the hotel in Clayton, and in the jail in Clayton, everyone who knew Nick and Heath were out there tracking the robbers heard the rain, and their hearts sank.

 _Maybe they've already figured out where those robbers went_ , Jarrod thought. _Maybe there's nothing to worry about and I'll be out of here by tomorrow. Maybe._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jarrod started yelling as soon as he woke up in the morning. "Sheriff! Sheriff! Come on, Sheriff!"

The cellblock door opened. It was the deputy, not the sheriff. "What's the problem, Barkley?"

"I need to see my lawyer, right away," Jarrod said.

"What, you want me to wake him up, too?"

Jarrod realized he didn't know what time it was. "No, no, of course not. I'm sorry – what time is it?"

"Not even six," the deputy said.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't know, but I need to see my lawyer as soon as possible."

"Whenever he gets here," the deputy said and closed the cellblock door.

"But I – " Jarrod gave up when the cellblock door shut. "I remembered something," he ended up saying quietly to himself, and he began to talk to himself, saying over and over again what it was he remembered so he wouldn't forget again. "I think I broke his nose. I think I broke his nose…."

He was still reciting it when the cellblock door opened, and his breakfast and his mother came in together. He jumped up from the cot.

Victoria was followed by the sheriff and was smiling as she carried the tray in. "The hotel kitchen staff took pity on me and let me cook your breakfast this morning," she said as the sheriff opened Jarrod's cell door.

Jarrod backed up and let his mother put the tray on the cot. "Thank goodness. They don't have a very good cook over there."

"So we found out at breakfast ourselves this morning."

"Is Mark with you?"

"He's at the telegraph office." Victoria noticed Jarrod seemed excited about something, but she didn't say anything until she had backed out of the cell and the sheriff had locked the cell door. "Are you doing all right this morning?"

Jarrod watched the sheriff leave and close the cellblock door before he spoke up. "I remembered something, Mother. I'm not sure, it might be just a dream, but I think I fought back when they grabbed me, and I think I broke the man's nose when they pulled me out of the stage."

"Pulled you out?"

"Yes, I think someone reached in and pulled me out before I was entirely awake, and I think I head butted him and broke his nose. Maybe that's why they knocked me out and left me holding the bag."

"But that means there may not be any other stagecoach robberies like this one."

"True, but it does mean Nick and Heath need to be looking for someone with a broken nose. Maybe, anyway. I'm just not sure if I'm really remembering something or it's a leftover dream. That's why I need to talk to Mark before we talk to anyone else."

Victoria smiled. "But if it is your memory coming back, that's better than not having it back."

"I think so. Maybe more of it will come back. Maybe I can remember what this fellow who hit me looks like, or even one of the others."

"You're sure there were more than one?"

Jarrod realized he had remembered something else. "Yes! I think I saw three – the one who hit me and two more standing in the road behind him. I think. I'm just not sure. But if I am remembering something, it's only a few seconds worth at most. I think this guy who hit me had grabbed me and was pulling me out of the stage, I head butted him, and then he knocked me out. Couldn't have even been five seconds worth of knowing what was going on."

Victoria sighed. "That's better than nothing, Jarrod. I'm going to go find Mark."

Victoria went to the cellblock door and pounded on it. The sheriff opened it, and she was gone in a flash.

Jarrod sat down on the cot and began to eat his breakfast. It was the first time since Modesto that he actually felt like eating.

XXXXXXX

Nick and Heath met the sunrise unhappy. The road was muddy, and whatever tracks there were the night before were gone now. Nick scowled more than Heath did, but that was because Heath was thinking more about what to do now.

"Well, I guess we just follow where the tracks were going last night and move on to Modesto," Heath said out loud and mounted up.

Nick mounted, too. "We oughtta get there before noon. But how are we gonna know who to look for?"

"We know one of the horses was kicking out with its right hind leg. We can go to the livery and see if any horse like that has come into town."

"Things are getting awful thin on us, Heath."

"I know, but the other thing we can do is wire Mark in Clayton and see if he and Jarrod have come up with anything."

Nick looked up at the sky for a moment, then back down. It had stopped raining – the sky was beautiful and blue. But the world did not feel beautiful to Nick. "We don't know when they're gonna put Jarrod on trial, Heath."

"No," Heath said, "but we better assume the worst and get going."

Heath started off, and Nick followed along after him.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod figured it was somebody coming for his breakfast tray when the cellblock door opened; it was Mark and Victoria. Jarrod got up and went straight to the cell door. "Did Mother tell you what I think I remembered?"

Mark nodded. "I'll tell Nick and Heath as soon as I hear from them, but I don't know when that'll be. And I have some news. The judge is in town, and you'll be arraigned this afternoon."

Jarrod felt himself go cold. "They're fast around here. I was hoping we'd have a bit more time."

"I doubt we'll go to trial before Monday, maybe not until Wednesday next week."

It was already Thursday. "How long do you think we can drag the trial out once it starts?"

"Well, we'll think about tactics like that. But there's a lot to think about."

Jarrod didn't like the tone of his lawyer's voice. "What else are you thinking about?"

Mark looked at Victoria, and before he could say anything, Victoria said, "I think Mark has considered the fact that that the legal proceedings moving quickly seems to be keeping the lynch talk down, so the locals have a great deal of incentive to move fast."

Jarrod was shocked for a moment that his mother could talk so straightforwardly about the chance he'd be lynched, but then, looking at her eyes, he realized he should not be surprised. She had been one tough woman all her life, faced mobs and armed men and every manner of despicable human being with barely a flinch. He smiled and sighed. "Well, maybe once I get to trial they'll see they have nothing and they'll let me go."

"Have you remembered anything else about the robbery, Jarrod?" Mark asked.

"I don't think there's much more to remember. I couldn't have been awake more than a few seconds before I was hit on the head."

"At least we can show you tried to resist the robbers and save the people who were shot. That ought to weigh something with the jury," Victoria said.

Mark said, "You know something like that can be the difference between guilty and innocent, Jarrod. Don't give up yet. Even if Nick and Heath don't find the men behind this, we still have ammunition in the arsenal."

Jarrod nodded. "Of course, you're right. Breakfast was delicious, by the way, Mother."

Victoria smiled again. "The kitchen staff is being very kind to me, so maybe you'll at least eat better while you're in here."

Jarrod smiled to her. "Thank you, Mother."

"I want to get back to work," Mark said and headed for the cellblock door. "I'll check with the telegraph office as often as I can to see if there's anything from Nick and Heath, and I'll be back at one. That's when they'll take you over to court for the arraignment."

Jarrod nodded. "I'll be ready."

"I don't have to tell you how to conduct yourself, I'm sure."

Jarrod shook his head. "I've had a lot of practice."

Victoria followed Mark, saying, "I want to help Mark all I can. I'll bring you lunch at about noon, darling."

Jarrod smiled. "I'll look forward to it."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Nick and Heath rode into Modesto at about eleven, unconsciously scanning every male face they saw even though they didn't know why. They had no idea what the men they were looking for looked like. Modesto was a big enough town that nobody seemed to be paying much attention to them even though they were obviously nosy. They were just as happy about that.

They went to the telegraph office first and sent a wire to their mother in Clayton, letting her know where they were. "We'll check back in an hour or so for a reply," Nick said as they left.

Next they went to one of the three livery stables in town, and they got lucky. The horse they were looking for was there. They felt their hopes rise.

"Who brought this horse in?" Heath asked.

The attendant shook his head. "Came in yesterday. I wasn't here."

Their hopes fell again. They thanked the man and asked him to pay attention if someone came for the horse. They would be back later in the day to check on things again.

They went to the sheriff's office then. The sheriff was there, along with two deputies. Nick and Heath introduced themselves and explained why they were there, but neither the sheriff nor the deputies knew who had brought the horse into town. They also had no knowledge of any stagecoach robbery like the one Jarrod was involved in.

"Although we did hear about the one a couple days ago," the sheriff said. "It's your brother they got locked up for it, you say?"

The Barkley men nodded.

The sheriff said, "Well, I've met your brother several times and never thought him to be a stagecoach robber. I'll testify if you think a character witness might help."

"Thanks, Sheriff, we appreciate that," Nick said.

"And I'll nose around about the robbery a bit more. Might learn something helpful."

"We appreciate that, too, Sheriff," Heath said.

Then they headed back to the telegraph office, and found paydirt. Mark had replied to their wire _. Look for man with broken nose_ , he said.

"I'm not exactly sure what that means," Nick said.

"You seen anybody around town with a broken nose?" Heath asked the telegrapher.

The man shook his head.

"Might have come in yesterday," Nick said.

The man shook his head again.

Nick quickly scribbled a return wire to Mark.

"Well, let's get looking," Heath said to his brother, and they went out.

They went back to the sheriff's office and asked for help finding a man with a broken nose. Then they went back to the livery stable and asked for the same thing. Then they looked up the local doctor, but he hadn't treated any broken nose either. Nick and Heath kept looking and asking. They made sure everyone knew their brother's life depended on it.

"Well, what do you think we do now?" Nick asked then as they stopped on the street outside the livery stable.

"The saloons are open, and I'm hungry," Heath said.

"Yeah, so am I," Nick said.

They went into the first saloon they came to, ordered a couple beers and a couple sandwiches, asked the bartender about anybody with a broken nose and got a negative shake of his head. The place did not have many patrons yet. Nick and Heath ate and finished their beers, then tipped the bartender heavily and asked him to watch out for a man with a broken nose. The bartender nodded.

"We'll touch base a few times during the day," Nick said.

The bartender nodded again, and Nick and Heath left.

Every other saloon in town gave them the same answer – no one with a broken nose had come in.

"He might be lying low," Heath suggested.

"Let's check the livery," Nick said.

They went back to the livery stable, but the horse they were interested in was still there. No one had come for him, and no one with a broken nose had even checked in.

As they went outside and wondered what to do next, Nick sighed and said, "If old broken nose is lying low, I don't know what we're gonna do to find him."

They checked the telegraph office again, and there was another wire from Mark. Nick closed his eyes when he read it.

"What?" Heath asked.

"Jarrod was arraigned today," Nick said. "Trial starts Monday."

Heath moaned. Given that it would take at least half a day to get to Clayton, that left them only two days – Friday and Saturday – to find the men they were looking for. That was no time at all.

"Let's tell the sheriff and keep on looking," Nick said.

XXXXXXXX

Returned to his cell after his arraignment, Jarrod fell on his back on the cot and stared at the ceiling. He was relieved that there was no mob of people out in the street watching him go to court. Oh, people stopped and stared but they kept on about their business. That was the best thing he could have hoped for. But right now, he was thinking more about the legal proceedings. He knew that word would be spreading that his trial was set to start in a few days. That would keep the mob down, but it just put a different kind of terror in Jarrod's mind.

He lay there and just kept staring at the ceiling. He didn't have a window he could look out onto the world from – he hated that for a minute but then was grateful he would not have to watch the scaffold being built.

This was all insane. The evidence against him was so flimsy. This could not be happening. A trial on Monday and if it went as fast as he thought it would and it went bad – dear God, he could be hanged legally in less than a week.

Jarrod rolled off the cot and began to pace, and to think, and to try to remember more, but his stomach was churning and making him sick, and his heart was pounding and his head was hurting more than it did when he was clubbed during the robbery. He stopped pacing and looked up when the cellblock door opened and his mother and his lawyer came in.

"Our best hope is that Nick and Heath find the man with the broken nose in Modesto," Mark said as the sheriff closed the cellblock door, "but even if they don't find him, your testimony about him will be valuable. If you can remember anything else, Jarrod – "

"I can't!" Jarrod shouted. "There wasn't enough time! I was asleep, I was grabbed and pulled out of the stage! I saw three men! I head butted the guy who grabbed me and then I was unconscious! Then I woke up with dead people all around me! That's all there is for me to remember!"

"All right, all right," Mark said. "We'll do the best we can with it, and we'll do the best we can with your personal history."

Jarrod sighed, and remembered Cass Hyatt. He could tell his mother was remembering the same thing, but did Mark even know about it? "Mark, do you know about my wife?"

"Yes, I do," he said, "but I'll bet the prosecutor here in Clayton doesn't know about it and it won't come up."

Jarrod swallowed. "Let's hope not," he said quietly. He was running out of energy. He was scared.

"We'll prepare for it, just in case," Mark said.

"Jarrod – " Victoria said and reached through the bars for his hand. He took hold of hers. "Don't give up. We haven't lost yet."

"I know that, but Mother, there's something I want you to do," Jarrod said, and then he glanced at Mark. "If the trial goes bad for me, I want you to go home directly afterward."

"No," Victoria said flatly.

"Mark, you can wire Nick and Heath and get them back here on Sunday. If it goes bad, I want them to take Mother home right after the trial and not come back."

"No," Victoria said again.

"Mother – "

"I said no!" she said adamantly and took her hand away from him. "No matter what happens at the trial, I intend to stay right here. There are no two ways about it. I am staying."

"Mother, I don't want to stand on the gallows and look down at you!" Jarrod said, just as adamantly. "I don't want you there!"

"You're not gonna hang, Jarrod," Mark said quietly, calmly. "What they have is not enough to hang you on, and if need be, I'll wire the governor to get a stay while we appeal."

Jarrod gave him a cockeyed smile. "You're talking to a lawyer, Mark, remember? I've been here with a client or two. People love a hanging, especially one that happens fast. Even if you wired the governor now, there wouldn't be enough time to get a stay."

"Jarrod, you KNOW the governor," Victoria said.

"And I know he likes to be out of touch over a weekend. If I'm found guilty on Monday, I'll hang by Tuesday. Mother, I don't want my family watching me hang if it comes to that."

"It won't come to that," Mark said, quietly and calmly again. "Believe in me. Believe in yourself. Believe in the law and believe in justice. You are not guilty of robbing that stage and killing those people, and you will not hang."

Jarrod appreciated the way Mark put all that, but his mind went back to a lynch mob - if he were acquitted, would they lynch him anyway?

Victoria read his eyes. "Believe it, Jarrod," she said.

Jarrod gave her a little smile. "All right."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Night fell while Nick and Heath were still looking through saloons and the livery and the streets and wherever else they could think to look for the man with the broken nose. They asked whoever they could think to ask. They looked in every place of business they could think to look. The man just was not there to be found.

"He's lying low," Heath said at the end of the day as he and Nick settled into a hotel room. "We have to find a way to get him to come out."

Nick sat down on one of the beds. "I know of one way we can try in the morning."

"What's that?"

"Get the sheriff to let us get that horse from the livery and park him right outside of one of the saloons while we keep watch to see who comes after him."

"Not a bad idea, Nick," Heath said. "Might actually work."

"I have my moments."

Especially when one of his family was in trouble, Heath knew.

Nick pulled off his boots. "We better have a back-up plan, too. And whatever we try, it better work tomorrow."

Heath put his gunbelt on the post of the bed he was claiming. "I can't think of any other bait we have, unless – "

"Unless what?" Nick asked.

"We start making it public that we're looking for a man with a broken nose who robbed a stage and killed four people," Heath suggested. "Up til now we haven't mentioned the stage robbery unless somebody asked, just that we're looking for a broken nose. Tell everybody we run into why we want the man. Somebody's bound to hear it and get nervous."

"Maybe we do both," Nick said. "Better chance of forcing somebody into a mistake."

Heath nodded. "It's a better plan that we've had so far, if it doesn't backfire."

"What do you mean?"

"Send him even farther underground."

Nick sighed. "Time to get some rest now. We're gonna need it over the next couple days."

XXXXXXX

Jarrod was reading when Victoria and Mark came into the cellblock the next morning. Jarrod smiled a little to see his mother had a tray with his breakfast on it. He put the book aside as the sheriff came in and opened the cell door.

Jarrod stood and Victoria put the tray on the cot. "They've offered me a job as cook at the hotel. I declined," Victoria said, "but it's nice to know I have a skill to fall back on."

"Any word from Nick and Heath?" Jarrod asked as his mother backed out of the cell and the sheriff locked the door.

When the sheriff left the cellblock and shut the door, Mark said, "They're sure the man they're looking for is in Modesto, but they haven't found him yet."

Jarrod grew sober. "You know, I could be wrong about the broken nose. I might not have hurt the man at all."

"I don't think they're betting the whole bankroll on that. They found one of the robber's horses. Something's bound to happen, probably today. They'll get some movement today."

"I hope you're right," Jarrod said. "Any information on similar robberies?"

"Not yet. We won't give up on that angle, either. We'll be ready on Monday, Jarrod. Don't worry at all about that."

"Mark, I appreciate all you're doing."

Mark smiled. "See if you still say that when you get the bill."

Jarrod smiled again, but then let it fade. He was thinking, _one thing I've learned through all this. I'm getting to understand how my clients really feel when they're cornered like this. In jail, facing the rope, facing the end of their lives. If I do get out of this, I'll have a different view of what my clients are going through. I'll understand better._

But he didn't say that out loud. It was far too personal. It showed how very scared he was.

As if she were reading his mind, Victoria reached through the bars for his hand. He gave it to her. "You'll be back to work in no time, so you can pay the bill."

Jarrod smiled again. "No doubt."

Mark began to leave. "I have a lot of work to do, so I'll leave you now. Jarrod, we'll talk later today, when I have more of the the outline of our case together, when maybe we'll have more information from Nick and Heath and even the Attorney General's office."

"All right, Mark," Jarrod said. "Thanks."

Victoria let go of Jarrod's hand. "I'm going to be leaving, too. I want to talk to Mark some more and see if there's anything I can do to help him."

Jarrod nodded. "Thank you, Mother. I love you."

Victoria smiled. "I love you, too, Jarrod. Don't worry. Today's the day things will all come together. You wait and see."

They knocked on the cellblock door and the sheriff let them out. Jarrod turned toward eating his breakfast, fervently praying that his mother was right.

XXXXXXX

Nick and Heath went to the sheriff's office very early and told him they wanted to take the horse out of the livery. They didn't want to be accused of stealing it. They planned to hitch it outside the saloon nearest the sheriff's office and just leave it there until someone paid attention to it. The sheriff chewed on that and said, "Well, as long as you leave it there and don't ride off on it."

"We'd appreciate it if you'd let us know if somebody mentions it to you," Heath said. "Whoever owns the horse might just complain that it's not in the livery."

"Maybe," the sheriff said. "Or somebody may just ride off on it themselves. Or…"

The sheriff didn't finish the sentence. "Or what?" Nick asked.

"Your man might have bought another horse and the robbers kept going. They sure had the money to do it."

Neither Nick nor Heath wanted to consider that possibility. If it were true, it meant that they'd never find the robbers, at least not in time to do Jarrod any good.

"We'll have our horses hitched nearby, and one of us will be watching all the time," Nick said. "Somebody rides off on it, we'll go after them."

Heath said, "Sheriff, can we ask you to deputize us? If this plan works there'll be somebody to be arrested on the spot."

The sheriff rubbed his chin and said, "Do you swear to uphold the law and do what I tell you?"

That was an odd oath, Nick and Heath both thought, but they both said, "Yes."

"I don't have any more badges, but you're deputized," the sheriff said. "You pick anybody up, though, you bring them right here, understood? No riding off to Clayton with them."

Nick and Heath both nodded.

"Good luck," the sheriff said. "If you can catch any of those robbers, you're gonna make me a very happy man."

Nick and Heath went out then, went straight to the livery stable and paid the fee before taking the horse out. The attendant was not very particular about who took what horse so long as the fee was paid. Nick and Heath paid the fees for their own horses and took all three to the saloon nearest the sheriff's office. They noticed the sheriff watching from his window as they went into the saloon.

There was nobody in the place at this early hour except for the bartender. Nick and Heath took a seat at a table by the window and ordered coffee and breakfast from the bartender. Then, they ate, drank, and waited.

XXXXX

They waited until well after dark. During the day, they left the saloon a few times, not wanting to look obvious about what they were doing. Then sometimes Nick left and came back, sometimes Heath. As it grew dark, they checked in with the sheriff, asking if they could spend the night in the office so they could keep watching.

"Sure," the sheriff said. "If somebody comes for the horse, you can lock them right up. But I leave at ten and come back in at six. I'll leave the place unlocked for you. Keys to cells are in the desk here."

So, when it looked like they'd been hanging around the saloon too late in the evening, Nick and Heath went over to the sheriff's office. The sheriff bid them good night and left them there.

The left the lights out as they watched the street. Nothing was happening with the horse still tethered nearby.

"I think maybe we let too many people know we were looking for the robbers," Nick thought out loud.

"Maybe," Heath said, "but if they are lying low, they wouldn't know that, would they?"

"Guess not," Nick said. "I just hope the sheriff wasn't right about them buying another horse and moving on."

"Me, too," Heath said. "I hope it's more likely they just left their horses in the livery for a rest before they move on."

"Do we have another plan if this doesn't work?"

Heath sighed. "No," he said very quietly. "Just go back to Clayton and beg that jury like crazy not to hang our brother."

Nick looked over at Heath, his brother's face looking eerie in the light coming from the street. Then he sighed his own sigh. They were out of options, and they both knew it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It was a long Friday night. The saloons had closed down and nothing had happened with the horse tethered in the street, but just as it was getting light on Saturday morning, the wait paid off. "Nick – " Heath said quietly.

Nick was making coffee but came to the window. He saw what Heath saw – someone moving toward the horse they had tethered nearby.

"I'll go," Heath said. "Your spurs are too noisy."

Heath quietly opened the door and walked toward the horse and the man who was untethering it. Before the man could mount, Heath caught up to him and grabbed the horse by the bridle. Startled, the man turned around.

Heath smiled. He could see the man's face in the faint light. "Broken nose, huh? And a near lame horse. Your luck hasn't been that good – "

The man ran, but Nick blasted his way out of the sheriff's office and headed him off, grabbing him by the collar. "Inside!" Nick yelled and hauled the man into the sheriff's office.

Heath followed them in and fetched the cell keys from the desk. He unlocked a cell and Nick pushed the man in. Heath locked him in securely.

"Well, well," Nick said. "Here we have exactly what we need."

"You're crazy. I was just getting my own horse. You're the two guys the man at the livery said stole it!"

"No, we're deputies," Nick said, "and we've just arrested you for the robbery of a stagecoach and the murder of four people."

"You're crazy!"

"No," Heath said. "We tracked you and your pals from Clayton to here, and we know how you got that broken nose."

"You just broke it a minute ago!"

"We didn't come anywhere near your nose," Nick said.

"Your word against mine."

"You're in the cell."

"Nick, why don't you finish making the coffee," Heath said. "We can have a nice conversation when the sheriff gets here."

Nick did as Heath suggested, while Heath kept a look through the window for anyone else who might come out onto the street and looked suspicious. But the only ones he saw were the sheriff and one his deputies, who came on horseback and hitched their horses to the rail outside.

"Morning, sheriff, have some coffee," Nick said when they came in. "And then some conversation with our guest with the busted nose."

The sheriff smiled and walked over to the cell where the prisoner was. "Ah, how nice. You really were here in Modesto."

The man just glared.

The sheriff said to the man, "Let me tell you how this is going to work. There's a recommendation we can make to the judge. He usually takes our recommendations. The first man in your little gang who tells a credible story about how you robbed that stage and killed those people and how you got that broken nose is the man who gets the recommendation that he not be hanged. The other ones – well, their fate stays up in the air but only until the trap door on the scaffold opens up. So, let's get right down to it. Do you want to be that first man, or do you want one of your buddies to get to live instead?"

Nick and Heath were really impressed with the sheriff's speech, and apparently the man in the cell was, too. "What do you want to hear?" he asked.

"Your name for starters," the sheriff asked.

"Cully Storm," the man said.

"Really? Cully Storm?"

"Yeah, really. Why would I make up a name like that?"

"Tell me how you got the broken nose."

"Me and two other men held up the stage between here and Clayton. When we stopped it, I saw a man, a passenger, still asleep inside. I wanted to haul him out and club him so he didn't make any trouble, but he woke up as I pulled him out and he butted me and broke my nose. That's when I clubbed him out and got the two women out."

"And then?"

"The shotgun jumped one of the other guys – "

"Give me a name."

"Sam Stone. The third guy is his brother, Joe. The shotgun jumped down from the coach and tackled Sam. Joe shot him in the head. Then Joe just kept shooting. Before we could stop him he shot them all except for the guy who butted me. We grabbed Joe and told him we could take the man's identification and put some money in his pocket instead, and he'd get blamed for being one of the robbers when he woke up. That would give us time to get away."

"You picked the wrong man to frame," Nick said.

"Do you still have the man's identification?" the sheriff asked.

"Joe has it," Cully Storm said. "We shot open the strongbox and stole the money – except for what we put in the man's pocket – and then we got out of there."

"Is this the first time you've robbed a stage?"

"No, but it's the first time anybody got killed. Joe just went crazy."

The sheriff looked at Nick and Heath. Heath just nodded, and the sheriff understood that everything Storm said matched up with what Jarrod said, and what the evidence showed, happened during the robbery.

"Okay," the sheriff said. "These two men are deputies who are going to take you to Clayton, right now. Stick your arms out, both of them together so I can handcuff you."

Cully Storm did as he was told, and in less than five minutes, Nick and Heath had him on the sheriff's horse. The three of them rode out of town toward Clayton before the town came awake.

But as the sheriff watched them go, he said to his deputy, "Meet me at the livery while I saddle a fresh horse."

The sheriff went out, and the deputy closed up the office and mounted up, following the sheriff to the livery stable.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod woke up early on Saturday morning, just as Nick and Heath were arresting Cully Storm. Jarrod hadn't been able to sleep well since he'd been jailed. It wasn't just the lumpy cot.

It was fear, out and out fear, that was keeping him awake. As Monday was drawing closer, he was getting more scared, and he hated himself for it. He tried to hide it and succeeded pretty well – so he thought. But he began to think not only about how his own clients facing charges like this felt before a trial, but also about how the men he prosecuted felt. He especially remembered the mistakes he had made – like Keno Nash – men he had prosecuted successfully and it turned out they were innocent. He understood now what they had gone through, and that was keeping him awake, too.

And then there was that possible lynch mob.

Mark Bromley came in even before Victoria came with his breakfast. Jarrod got up, but slowly. His bones were aching. "Have you heard from Nick and Heath?"

Mark shook his head. "I expect I'll hear something before too long. How are you doing?"

Jarrod nodded, hiding the fear. "All right except for the lumpy bed."

Mark was a very tall man – taller than even Nick – but he seemed to be slumping as he stood outside the cell. He seemed much shorter.

"How are you doing?" Jarrod asked.

"Anxious to hear from your brothers, like you are, but I want to talk long and hard this afternoon about how we're going to handle it if they don't bring any of the real robbers here. I had some ideas during the night – I wasn't sleeping very well, either."

Jarrod smiled a little. "Just what a defendant wants to hear from his lawyer."

"Sorry," Mark apologized. "I promise, I'll be well rested for the trial, but I'm hoping Nick and Heath come through and we don't even get to a trial."

"That makes two of us. Where is my mother, by the way?"

Mark smiled. "Cooking breakfast for us. I'm really beginning to be afraid that hotel won't let her go when this is over."

"Maybe she can give them some lessons today. Take her mind off things. I know she's really scared, Mark."

"Yes, she is, but she's tough as nails, your mother. Fear met its match in her."

Jarrod sighed. "That's good to hear."

Mark sighed, too, saying, "Well, I'll see you later, once I get my new thoughts in order. Then tomorrow we'll really nail things down, so we're ready for Monday."

Jarrod nodded, remembering how many times he had been where Mark was now, preparing for a difficult case over a weekend. "I'll see you later," Jarrod said, and he sat down on the cot again and opened the book he'd been reading.

Mark knocked on the cellblock door and gave Jarrod a last look. He knew his client was scared – any man would be. Mark just wanted to do the best he could, and he wanted to get Jarrod acquitted. He would work as hard as he could for that.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Nick and Heath took Cully Storm at a decent clip toward Clayton, but before long Nick wished that they had taken the time to wire ahead and let them know they had the man with the broken nose. He also started to think that he and Heath could have used some extra help. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't sure if he was afraid Storm would try to break free, or whether his buddies the Stones would try to break him free, but he was uneasy.

Everything rested on getting Storm to Clayton and getting him to talk. If they lost Storm, they would lose Jarrod. That thought scared Nick to his very core.

But the farther away they got from Modesto, the more the frightening thoughts Nick was having eased off. The sun was climbing high and they were miles away when Nick decided the Stone boys were not coming for their partner. They were probably twenty miles in the other direction from Modesto, Scott free and with the money they no longer had to share with Storm. At least, Nick thought, if he were a stagecoach robber, that's where he'd be.

They were very close to the place where the stage had been robbed when Heath said, "Nick, we got somebody behind us who's been with us for a while."

"You seen anybody?" Nick asked.

"No. Just heard them."

Storm started to laugh. Nick had been leading Storm's horse all the way from Modesto. He tightened his grip on the lead. "Let's speed up, see what happens."

The sped up to an easy gallop, Heath holding back just a bit. When Nick looked over his shoulder toward his brother, Heath shook his head. The sound of the horses behind them was keeping up with them.

There were some rocks up ahead that would hide men on horseback. Nick pointed wordlessly, and in a moment they were hidden, waiting for whoever was following them.

Now Nick could hear the followers too. He took his gun out and pointed it at Storm, saying, "You drop first, so keep your mouth shut."

Storm laughed. "You need me too bad."

"I need myself and my brother even more," Nick said.

Storm quieted down.

Heath spotted two riders coming. "Here they are," he said.

Nick and Heath kicked their horses into the road and blocked the way, holding their guns out. Nick still kept his on Storm. The riders stopped.

"Hey! What's this about?" one of the new riders asked.

"Why are you following us?" Heath asked.

"Not following," the man said. "Just going to Clayton."

"We didn't even know you was up ahead," the other man said.

Nick looked at Storm for any hint of recognition, but the man with the broken nose wasn't giving anything away. Nick and Heath both felt trapped. Maybe these two new riders were Storm's partners, come to break him free, or maybe they were just two innocent cowpokes on their way to town. The question was, what to do with them?

They all heard more horses approaching.

The two new riders staring at Nick and Heath were the ones who now looked trapped. They started to pull away, off the road.

"Stay where you are!" Heath ordered them, his gun pointed straight at them.

Storm began to look for a way out, figuring there were just enough newcomers to keep the Barkleys confused. But when he tried to move, Nick cocked his gun. "You stay put, Storm."

Two more riders came around a bend in the road and stopped with the men already stopped in the road. "Need some help?" one of the newest riders asked. He asked it of Nick and Heath.

Heath smiled. It was the sheriff from Modesto and his deputy. They both had guns drawn.

Nick finally saw that Storm's eyes gave things away - he knew the two men who had been following them. "Sheriff, I think we have the Stone brothers."

They were, in fact the Stone brothers. They sat silently, looking for a way out that wasn't there. They looked at each other. Nick could have sworn one was angry with the other, and he could guess why. The one being glared at was the one who had this stupid idea to try to spring Storm.

"Is that right, boys?" the sheriff asked. "Are you Sam and Joe Stone?"

They didn't answer.

"Well, no matter," the sheriff said. "We're not that far from Clayton. We can sort out everything there."

"What made you follow us, Sheriff?" Heath asked.

"Just a hunch," the sheriff said. "We saw these two heading out of Modesto while I was getting my horse saddled. I didn't think they were gonna let Storm confess on what these two did. You're just lucky they didn't decide to shoot Storm from a distance and take off."

Nick finally relaxed a little bit, and without further talk, the seven men began to ride toward Clayton again.

XXXXXXXX

The day wore on so slowly for Jarrod that he was about to bend those bars with his bare hands and make a run for it. He scarcely touched the lunch his mother had brought him, and that was when she really began to worry. When Jarrod was worried, he didn't eat, and he'd go somewhere far away in his head, thinking.

"You do need to eat," Victoria warned, as she stood outside the cell and watched the stew she'd made go cold on the tray sitting on the cot.

Jarrod shook his head. "Too much on my mind right now. Trying to find anything else we can use in my defense."

Victoria said, "Your brothers still have time to find the robbers. Don't give up on them yet."

"I haven't," Jarrod said. "But I need to come up with every defense that I can. If I were standing where you are, advising my client in here where I am, I would need to be able to tell him honestly that I was working as hard as I could to come up with ways to get him free."

"And what are you coming up with?"

Jarrod snorted. "Nothing. That's the problem."

"Trust Mark, Jarrod," Victoria said. "You've never asked your clients to come up with their own defense, have you? Haven't you always considered that your job?"

"You're right," Jarrod conceded. "And I do trust Mark, but I'd be a fool to quit thinking about possible defenses myself. I am a lawyer. I know how these things work, and when they don't work."

Victoria said, "You also know how you get when you don't eat. Your thinking gets fuzzy. You've even been known to lose all your senses until you get some food into you."

Jarrod snorted again. "You're right, as usual," he said and picked up the bowl of stew and piece of bread. He began to eat.

Victoria smiled. Inside she was worried sick, but for now, the fact that he was eating was enough.

Then they heard a commotion out in the street. They looked at each other, and Victoria pounded on the cell block door.

The sheriff let her out, but then he ran for his rifle rack, leaving the door open, saying, "Mrs. Barkley, you stay right in here and away from the door." He took a rifle down, checked it was loaded, and went outside.

In his cell, Jarrod knew what was happening. The quick trial set for Monday hadn't calmed men down enough. "Mother, do what the sheriff says," Jarrod said, his first worries for her because he knew her inclination would be to run out the door and defend her son in front of an angry mob.

Victoria didn't pay any attention to him. She went outside, unarmed.

She took her place beside the sheriff just at the edge of the boardwalk. There were ten or twelve men there, standing with the banker, who was holding his own rifle. Victoria had walked in on the middle of what the banker was saying.

"I know and you know that this trial isn't going to mean anything!" the banker yelled. He looked at Victoria. "She's already had men with her, and they've gone to get more! They are not gonna let this Barkley fella hang!"

"Samuel, you get yourself under control," the sheriff said, trying to sound calm, noticing Victoria was beside him and now having to worry about her safety, too. "Barkley's gonna get a fair trial on Monday, and whatever the jury decides is what I'll see is carried out, but we're not gonna have a lynching in Clayton. You men go about your business, and do it right now."

Two or three men moved slightly away, but they did not leave. The banker said, "He's a murderer and I'm gonna see that he pays for it!"

Victoria knew every man in front of her had been drinking already and would probably not listen to reason from the sheriff - if they were inclined to reason they wouldn't be so drunk at this hour that they'd be out here in the first place - but there was no way she was going to let any of them take Jarrod out of that jail and hang him. "If my son is found guilty, he'll pay for it!" she yelled, and couldn't believe what she was saying. It was just tumbling out, out of panic that was rising up. "He's a lawyer! He's been a man of the law all of his life, and he's not about to change now!"

"Lady, I don't believe for a minute you'd let your son hang!" the banker yelled.

"Well, I'm sure not gonna let _you_ hang him!" Victoria yelled back. "Do what the sheriff says and get out of here, all of you! Let the judge and the jury do their job! I'm willing to let them because my son did not kill anyone, and I will not let you or any man on this street take him out of this jail!"

It worked. Maybe every one of those men had faced his own angry mother in his time. Maybe they weren't that keen on a lynching anyway but had been drinking too much not to go along with it. Whatever the reason, they all instinctively backed away. Slowly, the banker was left standing by himself in the street.

"Samuel," the sheriff said more quietly. "Go home."

The banker lowered his rifle and wandered away.

Victoria closed her eyes and let the tension run out of her body. Without saying anything to the sheriff, she went back into the jail.

She saw Jarrod back in his cell. Since the sheriff had left the cell block door open, he had heard everything. He smiled and reached between the bars toward his mother. Victoria wandered in there, and in a moment he was embracing her and trying to keep her from shaking. He was embracing her with the bars between them, but they hardly felt them at all.

XXXXXXX

Victoria left with the lunch tray at about two o'clock. As she crossed the street, she spotted seven riders come into town at a clip that made her take notice. And she saw Nick and Heath, leading the way. Thrilled, she hurried into the hotel, left the tray with the kitchen staff, and ran back outside. She saw her sons and the other men heading into the jail.

The banker and other people in the street saw it, too, but they saw badges on two of the men. They knew the Clayton sheriff had help now, legal help. The banker went back to his job.

 _Oh, dear God, please let those be the robbers that they have_ , Victoria thought as she ran back to the jail. For a moment she thought she ought to go get Mark Bromley, but she couldn't wait.

"Nick!" she said as soon as she was inside, and she ran to him.

Nick put an arm around her.

"Are these the real robbers?" Victoria asked.

"They are," Nick said with a smile.

Victoria felt like she was breathing again for the first time in days. She watched as the sheriff and two of the other men took three of the men into the cellblock.

Heath went with them. Once inside, he saw Jarrod leap to his feet. "Better put some space between these men and my brother," Heath said to the sheriff. "Jarrod's likely to be pretty mad about now."

The sheriff took his advice and put Storm in one cell and the Stone brothers in another, across the narrow pathway from Jarrod's. Jarrod watched, clutching the cell bars. Nick came through the cellblock door and over to his brother, smiling.

"Is that them?" Jarrod asked.

"It's them," Nick said. "The one with the broken nose has ratted out the other two."

Jarrod felt his whole being go limp. He wasn't aware until now that he'd been holding so much tension in.

"I want my brother out of here," Nick said to the sheriff.

"Can't, Nick, I've already been arraigned," Jarrod said. "I'll have to go to court on Monday."

Nick looked over his shoulder at the sheriff of Clayton. "I guess we'll be sticking around until our brother is free," he said, but he was really saying it to Storm and the Stone brothers.

The sheriff of Modesto and his deputy were already going back into the office from the cell block. As soon as he locked the newcomers in, the Clayton sheriff went back into the office as well. Heath joined his two brothers at Jarrod's cell, and he gave Jarrod a wink. "We had you covered all along, Big Brother," he said with his lopsided grin.

"I never had any doubts," Jarrod said, smiling.

Nick guffawed.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Late in the day on Saturday, the sheriff had Storm and each of the two Stones out of their cells for questioning and statements, one at a time. Storm went first. When he watched the sheriff take him out, Jarrod turned into a racehorse who had to watch other horses run while he sat the race out. He was chomping at the bit, running questions through his mind that he'd want to ask. _Damn, I should be on the other side of these bars,_ he kept saying to himself. Trying to calm down was not working.

When night came, he could hear one or two of his fellow prisoners snoring, but Jarrod was wide awake. Funny, but just twelve hours ago he was dreading Monday morning arriving. Now he couldn't bear the thought of waiting until then.

Only two or three times did it occur to him to be afraid that this whole thing was not going to work out, that he was going to go to trial and the jury was not going to believe him, that Storm and the Stones would take back their confessions – or whoever confessed would take it back, and that he'd be found guilty and be hanging before the next weekend rolled around. Or worse yet, the banker and his buddies would try to lynch him, and his family would get hurt in the process. Each time he thought of things like that, he chased them away. The prosecutor would realize he had no case against him. The charges would be dismissed by the judge even before the jury was seated, and the townspeople would accept that the real killers were already in the sheriff's hands.

He hoped.

He spent the rest of the weekend enjoying his mother's food and reading whatever she was able to bring by. Mark assured him that Storm's confession was on paper now, that the judge would dismiss the charges as soon as the prosecutor moved for dismissal, and that the Barkleys and the defense counsel would be heading home by Monday morning.

Then Monday morning came. The sheriff came for him and made him wear the handcuffs to court. Jarrod found himself standing there before the judge like one of the many men he'd defended or prosecuted. He understood so much better now.

The judge gaveled court into session, and then he said, "Mr. Prosecutor, I'll entertain a motion."

The sweetest words Jarrod ever heard. He knew he'd be free in minutes.

The prosecutor said, "Your Honor, evidence has come to light – compelling evidence – that the defendant was not a participant in the robbery and murder at the stage coach last week, but was a victim of the robbery. Therefore, the State moves the charges against Mr. Jarrod Thomas Barkley be dismissed."

The judge looked at Mark Bromley. "I assume you concur, Mr. Bromley."

"Whole-heartedly, Your Honor," Mark said with a smile.

The judge said, "I'll grant the motion. The charges against Jarrod Thomas Barkley are dismissed, and Mr. Barkley is free to go with the State's apologies for the inconvenience he has endured."

The judge dismissed the room full of prospective jurors, who looked confused but happy to go. Then he banged the gavel again and adjourned court.

The Clayton sheriff unlocked Jarrod's handcuffs and said, "Glad it worked out for you, Mr. Barkley. I got your identification papers from one of the Stone brothers, and you can come collect all your personal items over at the office."

And then, they saw the banker, alone at the back of the room. The man walked slowly up to them, and Victoria found herself instinctively getting between him and Jarrod. But the banker was not irate anymore. He fumbled with words as everyone stared at him, but he just ended up saying, "I'm sorry for what I tried to do."

Jarrod said to him, "I liked your aunt and your cousin, and I'm sorry for your loss. The men who really killed them will pay."

The banker just nodded and walked out of the courtroom.

Jarrod turned toward his family with a smile, and his mother fell into his arms. He felt tears on her face and brushed them off. Then he shook his brothers' hands and Mark Bromley's, saying to his lawyer, "Thanks for everything, Mark."

"Don't thank me," Mark said. "It's your brothers who made the difference."

Jarrod grinned at Nick and Heath, then gave them each a bear hug.

"You still have to go to Camp Meade," Nick said.

Jarrod had forgotten. He decided to buy a horse here and ride off to that meeting they had to delay, but first, "Uh – I'm more than happy to head there right now, but I need a little money, Nick. All I got left with after the stagecoach robbery was what was stolen out of the strongbox. They won't be giving that back."

Nick pulled out his wallet but discovered he had only twenty dollars. He handed it over, saying, "Heath, can you ante up?"

Heath reached for his wallet, but he had only ten dollars he handed over.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Victoria said and pulled her wallet out of her reticule. She ponied up another fifty, saying, "And I'll buy you a horse."

Jarrod laughed and kissed her on the forehead. "And I'll meet you all at home after I make my last business calls."

"Just don't get arrested again, Jarrod," Heath said. "We don't even have any bail money now."

"Now that I know what it's like actually facing the rope instead of holding my client's hand while he faces it," Jarrod said, "I don't plan on ever needing bail money again."

"I'll remember you said that," Nick said and led the way out.

The End


End file.
